


Freefall

by ReCremisi



Category: El Hoyo | The Platform (2019), ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: Crossover, Fear, I'll add more tags as it goes on!, M/M, Mentions of Violence, This is so incredibly niche, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:53:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26379901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReCremisi/pseuds/ReCremisi
Summary: Yoshikage Kira and Diavolo are both prisoners of The Hole, surviving only by eating the leftovers of those above them. While they'd enjoyed a comfortable month on floor seven, what hell will await them on floor 179?Based off of the move El Hoyo/The PlatformTags to be updated in the future!
Relationships: Diavolo/Kira Yoshikage (JoJo: Diamond is Unbreakable)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Freefall

As with all things, it wasn’t terrible at first. Far from good, yes, but not terrible.   
  
The food had been plentiful, of course, as they were only on the seventh level. With each day, he’d rise, and look to the large 7 emblazoned on the wall, and wait for his meal to be delivered. It was a boring time, yes, but one that was rooted in the security he oh so desired. 

The cell, his home for the time being, was...boring. It was boring, and uniform, save for one feature. In the middle of the floor, parallel with a similar feature in the ceiling, was a giant hole. A huge square, through which one could see down to the next level, and the next, and the next. Everything, you could see everything to the point where it faded into the void. It was through this that their meals were delivered via a floating platform that descended through each floor, carrying the leftovers of those above. 

And, of course, that time was not spent alone. Diavolo had been fortunate enough to have a rather amicable cellmate assigned to him, one that kept to himself. One that kept his manners about him, his wit carried like a sharpened blade. With each day that he rose, he almost looked forward to sharing his meal with this man. The blonde man on the other side of the cell, Yoshikage Kira. 

The two spent their sleepless nights talking, filling the still air with words that bounced off of the concrete walls of their cell. Yoshikage never pried for information, and out of respect, neither did Diavolo. They knew they’d be stuck together for a time, so they should at least try to get along. It was important, he thought, that you should get along with the man you were to be paired with during such a long sentence.   
  
“Yoshikage.” This was one such night. After the bright lights of their cell had faded to a dull red, the two had gotten ready to sleep. He turns his head to look at the blonde man doing his stretches, a pointless routine. Or, at least, that’s what Diavolo thought. After a moment, his cellmate glances at him over his shoulder, the dim red light of their room reflecting off of his eyes. He looked almost predatory, something that raised a sort of alarm in Diavolo, even if he’s not sure why. 

“Yes?” Was the simple reply he got, a single syllable, revealing nothing. It suited him. 

“What day is it?” Though there wasn’t much to distract him from keeping track of the time they spent in the hole, Diavolo did find it boring to do so. To count each day only served to drag out each month, to make every hour, minute, and second seem to crawl by. He preferred to not know, most days, except when it got closer and closer to the end of each month.   
  
Kira pauses a moment, thinking to himself. His stretches have ceased as he counts under his breath, his toe tapping with each number he murmurs. The sound echoes in their cell.   
  
“...Day 28, I believe.” Diavolo watches as Kira nods to himself, sure that that was the correct number. 

“...28? You’re sure.”

“Of course.” Kira gives Diavolo a small frown, before turning back to face the wall. He finishes his stretches, leaving Diavolo in a veritable state of contemplation. Glancing at the large seven carved out of the concrete, he feels a pang of what could only be fear. 

They had both gotten lucky this month. On day 30, though, that luck could soon turn. With each thirty days, he reminds himself, they would be taken to a new room. A different cell, somewhere within the hell that was The Hole. If he were a religious man, Diavolo would pray, beg to a god who would ignore the pleas of a man named after the devil. He’d beg for a low number, or to even stay in the single digits if he were feeling lucky. 

Reaching under his pillow, he brings out the trinket he was allowed to bring with him. All prisoners are allowed something, anything that could help them survive the ordeal they were presented with. He could have brought a knife, a sword, a goddamn crossbow, and yet he didn’t. He didn’t bring anything that could even remotely be considered a weapon. 

He runs his fingers over the glossy, smooth surface of the photograph, and stares at it beneath the red lights of their cell. A long lost love, a woman who he’s sure he’ll never see again. She was beautiful, her smile giving off a radiant warmth that rivaled the sun that she posed beneath. Muttering a quick goodnight to the picture, and then a second, louder one to Kira, he allows himself to fall asleep to thoughts of her. Of love, and loss.

Of dearest Donatella.

The next day passes without incident. The two eat their fill once again, with Kira maintaining somewhat immaculate table manners, and Diavolo...being Diavolo. He ate with the bravado of a starved Lion, tearing at the food presented to him. He ate as if he’d never eat again, fearful of what tomorrow night may bring. Once the platform of food is gone, he sits back, resting on his hands as he looks at his cellmate. 

“Yoshikage.” It felt...strange to call him by his last name, at least to Diavolo. His roommate glances up at him from the other side of the hole, having not yet moved from his spot. Quirking and eyebrow, the blonde leans forward slightly, and rests his chin in his hand.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“What is it that you brought with you?” Somehow, Diavolo had never thought to ask. He hadn’t asked, and he hadn’t seen Kira use anything, or show anything to him besides whatever food they’d had on the table. While it hadn’t occurred to him previously, he now thought it to be somewhat suspicious, and began to wonder just what it is that his cellmate had with him. Was it something shameful? While that could be funny, Diavolo honestly couldn’t imagine Kira bringing something like a sex toy with him here. Not to mention, that would be pretty useless. 

It could, of course, be some sort of weapon. That would be the wisest thing to do, and looking at Kira’s reluctance to answer, Diavolo assumes that’s the most likely possibility. While it wasn’t comforting, he did hope that Kira wouldn’t use it on him. He hadn’t shown any inclination towards violence, so he doubted he’d attack him.

“Well,” Kira sighs through his nose, somewhat frustrated by Diavolo’s question. He nods at his bed, a small gesture that drew Diavolo's eyes to it. “I’ve got a knife. A plain kitchen knife, mind you, nothing fancy. I’m not entirely sure why that was the object I chose...I suppose I thought I could use it to defend myself.”

Diavolo nods, accepting that explanation. A knife, then, something for defense. It was as he thought, Kira wasn’t one to fight. Looking at the man, he found some small reassurance in that. 

Later on that day, the two were getting ready to sleep, cloaked in that dim red light. It was quiet, as all nights are at the beginning, with Diavolo staring at his photograph once again. Looking at the beautiful woman there, wondering if there was a chance she was still alive. Still living, somewhere, beneath that beautiful sun. 

“Diavolo.” The quiet, monotonous voice of Kira breaks him from his thoughts. It wasn’t uncommon for Kira to initiate a conversation, and yet it still startles him nearly every time. Resting the picture against his chest, he looks at Kira. 

“This is our last full night here,” Kira continues, not pausing to let his companion speak. “Our last night on seven. I’m...Well, I don’t want to say it, but I know we’re both worried where we’ll wind up. When we fall asleep tomorrow…” He pauses, and sighs. Diavolo can hear him rolling over to look at him as he continues.   
  
“Well, the morning after tomorrow, I’m not sure where it is we’ll be.” That was obvious, and yet, Diavolo found himself a little scared. Scared of the fact that neither him, nor Kira knew where it was they were to go. They never knew, no prisoner knew where they’d wind up. They could only hope to wind up somewhere higher than before.

But it was unlikely that they’d wake up higher than floor seven. 

**Author's Note:**

> I just watched this movie like two hours ago, and for some reason, decided that I absolutely had to write this fanfiction. I'm really not sure why.


End file.
